Karnivorous Behavior

For what seems like ages now, I’ve been struggling to write something of substance about Karneval. The party-to-end-all parties,¹ that raucous din that consumed the city with costumed bedlam for almost a week, surely I needed to write about that.

For me, Karneval fell flat. Karneval is party without purpose, festivity following no particular event or cause demanding celebration. For five straight days, Cologne brimmed with merrymakers drinking themselves silly with what sometimes seemed to be desperation. I’m told Karneval originated as a last hurrah before the Lenten season began. It was, I can only assume, an attempt to load oneself with such a vicious hangover that the puritanical proscriptions of Lent would be seen as a sweet relief rather than a restriction.

For the most part, Cologne today is a Catholic city in name and skyline only. The beginning of Lent does not herald teetotalling so much as the mixing of pain-relief medications. So what was everyone celebrating? If the desperation to eek every last drop out of those days did not come from the approach of Lent, then where? Given the maturity² of the average partier, I find myself entertaining depressing theories about German denial: a generation rejecting a two-fold truth: 1) Eventually, youth passes you by; and 2) after a certain age, no one pulls off the drunk tooth-fairy look. The spectacle was, on the whole, a little sad. It reminded me of a theme party in Claremont, but less fun, and with more anonymity, rain and wrinkles.

I suppose at this point a disclaimer is in order. I had fun at Karneval, and my negative opinion on Karneval only developed later. Like everyone else, I looked forward to it. I assembled a pirate costume from odds and ends and a few accessories bought for pocket change on the street.³ I went to parties and watched the parade. But a celebration is meant to… well, celebrate something. Karneval is the quintessential party qua party. I just prefer having cause for my revelry.

Take Meagan’s last visit. She arrived off the plane terribly sick, so rather than castle-hunting along the Rhine, as planned, we spent the weekend recuperating. Though we took in some sightseeing⁴, most of the weekend was spent on my couch.

I haven’t been that happy in ages.

Celebration is good. But the desperate groping for happiness uprooted from cause, well, I’ve found it wanting. If you want to enjoy Karneval, by all means visit Cologne, or Essen or Rio or Venice or any of the other cities where the festivities at this time of year are famed. But bring your friends. They’re what’s worth celebrating.

So much for Karneval. Next time: Dvořák.

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¹Well, until after Lent, anyway.

²Biological, that is.

³Actually, my costume has yielded a lot of compliments. I don’t know how I feel about near-universal consensus that I look better in a bandana, buckles and breeches than I do in modern clothing. Probably just further evidence, alongside the stodgy timbre of this post, that I was born in the wrong century.

⁴Including the hospital. Calm down – she’s fine, now. I had fun, actually. I’d never been in an ambulance before.

Oh, Right -- This Is What Working Feels Like

As of today, I am two weeks through the third and final phase of my program here in Germany. My internship¹ proceeds apace, and I am enjoying it immensely. My friends know I thrive on stress, though not always with much grace or stoicism. I prefer activity, even stressful levels of it, to lethargy. Thus I had looked forward to once again being truly busy.

Somehow, though, I had forgotten that with being busy comes... well, being busy.

Hence the pause since my last post. My job has me writing almost constantly. I have found little energy for blogging after writing for nine straight hours at work. On the plus side, I have managed to find even more respect for certain bloggers who've kept that pace for some time now. My next topic will be Karneval... but not yet. That pandaemonium of pageantry has aligned itself in constellation-like fashion with a few other events in my life, which I will be tackling collectively in the near future. Don't worry: I won't be assaulting you with any rambling diatribes just because Europe's getting all serendipitous on me.

For now, let me just say this: Cologne has a Karneval rallying cry, "Kölle Alaaf!" Hearing that everywhere made the whole event sound like some sort of call to a jovial jihad.

Stay tuned.

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¹I use that term loosely. The responsibility and feeling of satisfaction are decidedly job-like. The pay... well, not so much.